


Mildly Disastrous Valentines and Other Love Related Oddities from the Battlefront

by ShslGermanySimp



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Fluff, GOD JUST LET NUMEROUS PEOPLE HOLD HANDS, Holidays, M/M, Polyamory, SOME OF THESE ARE PLATONIC GUYS, SPY BEING A DAD, So if Spy and Engie are holding hands are Scout and Pyro brothers, alcohol tw?, and there was only one bed, christmas?????, just that soft shit, smoking tw too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29973498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShslGermanySimp/pseuds/ShslGermanySimp
Summary: Romancing is difficult while locked in an endless war.Luckily, the mercenaries have gotten rather good at it after so many years.This is mostly just little drabbles for ships I personally enjoy a lot. Mostly fluff? Yes! Some angst? Also yes because I'm an angst whore! Lots of fun? Hopefully yes! Please note some of the content in here is based off of headcanons, too, so not everything is 100% represented like how it is in game/in the comics. Also, not all of these are SHIP ships. Some of them are platonic or familial relationships!And yes, this is a wip, so not ALL of the ships tagged have drabbles written for them. We're getting there ^^
Relationships: Demoman/Pyro (Team Fortress 2), Demoman/Soldier (Team Fortress 2), Engineer/Medic (Team Fortress 2), Engineer/Spy (Team Fortress 2), Heavy/Medic (Team Fortress 2), Medic/Spy (Team Fortress 2), Merasmus/Soldier (Team Fortress 2), Miss Pauling/Soldier/Zhanna, Miss Pauling/Zhanna (Team Fortress 2), Pyro/Scout (Team Fortress 2), Pyro/Scout/Sniper (Team Fortress 2), Scout/Sniper (Team Fortress 2), Soldier/Zhanna (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 24





	1. Fiery Confessions from a Mishap with the Blowtorch (Molotov Cocktails)

Oh, wasn't this the life.

They didn't ever get much snow in the desert, but unless you were Scout or Heavy, it slowed everybody down when it stuck to the dry sands. Absorbed the heat and sucked out the scent of death and lizard shit. 

Of course, it slowed everyone down, though! Unacceptable with the fast pace lives the mercenaries on team RED lived. Something had to be done.

And quite frankly, whoever told Pyro to take its flamethrower and start melting it away was either a damned idiot or some kind of genius. 

It took pride in it's work. Blasting heat and scorching flames upon powdered snow just barely tarnished by divots that shimmered in the sun overhead, assumed to be light footprints. It could easily get the job of clearing the RED battlefield done within an hour, with pure dedication and recklessness, which it was pumped full of when there was anything to do with the thrills of potentially setting something or someone on fire involved with the matter at hand. 

Maybe its head was too far up in the clouds to realize the 2 or 3 scattered hearts it had torched through the snow into the desert sand. But what reason did it have to be so incredibly spaced out?

Well, maybe it was the Scotsman watching with admiration from the window, a sort of fire of understanding in their eye while they watched the arsonist do as they would with a bottle of scotch in hand. Always a bottle of something, they carried.

Pyro didn't mind, because at least, unlike some people, the Demoman, who it knew just a little bit better as just simply Tavish, didn't depend too much on their alcohol, despite their reputation as a lousy drunk. In Pyro's opinion, it just made them more fun. At least, more fun than some of their "no nonsense" teammates. So maybe, if Tavish really did make it feel like that, then the scattered hearts that singed the desert sun made a lot more sense. Somebody let it get bit by the love bug in its sleep, it seemed. Likely Scout. It would have to talk to him later about that, that rat bastard.

Pyro forced itself to focus. Once it snapped itself from its daze, it noticed that Tavish was no longer at the window. A mumble of disappointed defeat slipped through the slits of its mask, and it returned to snow blowing the lawn via the fires of hell. 

Until the front door creaked open.

"Aye Pyro!" The Scotsman called out, nearly causing the arsonist to drop its flamethrower. It turned and waved enthusiastically. 

Maybe it should make note of its art, if Tavish hadn't already noticed it.

"Ye almost finished? Scout's gettin' antsy and ain't no one lettin' 'im out til yer done" they explained, stepping out a little. It wasn't necessarily cold. Chilly enough to nip your nose pink and give you a cold if you were underdressed, which Tavish was and Pyro was not. Part of why Pyro made its way over to them, in order to shoo them inside. But it stopped in front of them, and looked out to the snow, gesturing to the hearts which it had torched into the shimmering, marshmallow-y substance.

Tavish gazed out with wonder, a sort of childish glee starting to sparkle in their eye.

"Ya did that for me?" they asked, turning to the arsonist. They could practically feel a smile through its mask as it nodded to them. They rubbed the back of their neck, trying to place words as a small smile of their own cracked across their face. "Aw, gee... Yer a real flash bastard when ya wanna be, Pyro, I'll give ya that!"

Quiet for a second.

Tavish had never noticed before- was their heartbeat always this loud...?

"So whaddaya mean by all this, laddie?" they decided to ask. Pyro raised a hand, with the pinky and pointer fingers and the thumb extended. It flicked its hand at the wrist toward Tavish a few times. They knew that sign. _I love you_ , it meant.

Suddenly, a twinge of red snuck across their face. "Oh" was all they managed to say. It wasn't like they liked it back! A good Demoman, a true knight, wouldn't waste time dawdling in something as trivial and childish as romance. 

But damnit, was that masked firemaker charming, and they hadn't even seen its face.

Pyro tilted its head in response to Tavish' answer. Curious to whether or not they didn't like it. Tavish picked up quickly, and fumbled aimlessly to try and defend themself. "Nonono!" They began to promise. "Ain't a bad 'oh', promise! Just done take this ol' fool by surprise" they paused. Let their gaze fall upon the hearts. Scan them, trace the sands under them with their glare. And then they looked back to Pyro, softening. "So ya mean it? I mean, we say I love ya to the boys all the time, but ya don't just say that, show a bloke somethin' like this, 'n then try 'n play it of wit' a no homo, y' know?"

Pyro shook its head. A finger was placed against its mask, where their mouth would be, like a 'hush' moment, before it jerked it forward and pointed at Tavish. Another sign they knew. It meant _sincere_. So this wasn't a fucking joke then. They laughed a little.

"Aye, yer a charmin' little lad" They complimented. Pyro gave a small, approving bounce from the ground in response. Tavish thought for a moment, trying to think of a casual acceptance to their pretty-much-but-not-really-a-confession confession. 

They finally got it, pushing away the fluttering in their heart at the arsonist's childlike dorkiness and just overall manner. "Ye got anyway I can help ya speed out?" they asked. Pyro gestured to the porch. Another flamethrower. Of course. Tavish nodded like they understood, which, of course, they did, and moved to pick up the weapon. Less a weapon and more a snow blower, but still, user technicalities.

Well, what a first date after they both awkwardly pretty much said that the other made their heart do weird things, and they indirectly accepted the others' company. Then again, Tavish, nor Pyro, could think of a better team-building activity or date activity better than burning away snow and seeing who could finish first, turning it into a competition.

A couple of others peeked through the window, watching as the two engaged in their competition, which including chucking snow at one another and seeing who could torch more hearts and other cool patterns into whatever snow was left. 

"Ya owe me 20 for that one, maggot!" 

"Aw, shucks" 

Engineer slid a $20 bill into Soldier's waiting palm as they observed the two with slight smiles.

Thinking what everyone else was. _It was about fucking time._


	2. Mon Petit Ours en Peluche (Practical Espionage)

Staying cloaked for awhile was something that the Spy had expertise in. It was his profession. Essentially, what the job description called for, along with being a bastard that gained nothing but distrust and hatred from his teammates.

That was what made toying with the rest of them so fun. His ability to make like a ghost, disappear as if he hadn't been there at all. It was good for smuggling rumors, obtaining blackmail, or just learning what the others were up to behind closed doors, locked screens, and padlocked liquor cabinets stocked tight with bottles that would no doubt have secret messages smushed between them. The gem the Spy had found? One calling Soldier out for his dick size. Everyone had a feeling it was small, the Frenchman was sure, but it wasn't an image he, nor anyone else, wanted manifested in their head.

Yes, sneaking was his primary purpose. But now, the Spy used his cloaking for something less malicious.

Sitting in the quiet workshop, he rocked back and forth on his heels, hands folded neatly behind his back as he stayed comfortably in the corners' shadow. His gaze shifted frequently, between the door, and the desk, which now used a box of chocolates, 3 roses, and a large stuffed teddy bear with a note in paw as rather flashy paperweights for blueprints that the European could hardly understand. He was a man of practicality and class, he didn't have time for that mumbo jumbo the man he had grown oh, so fascinated by indulged in for the sake of indulging in it. How any one person could do that for _fun_ amazed him.

Spy pulled a pocket watch from the pocket of a 3 piece suit, despite the fact that he wore a wristwatch, that was so stock full of gadgets that its time telling abilities were thrown very out of proportion, to a point where it was permanently stuck at 5 hours and 37 minutes behind the standard time. Scanned the face with frosted eyes. 

Any moment now, the door would open. Not much longer. 

What had gotten the Spy so interested in the Engineer, he couldn't say. Not that it was confidential like the rest of his work or anything. He just didn't know, either. The southerner had a sort of charm to them. He simply couldn't place what it was. Maybe it was the notable softspokenness they had compared to the rest of their teammates, along with a spew of other things that he could name that made them interesting. Their brilliance, skill, wit. Persistence. Putting up with a team that took advantage of their skills.

The two were similar in that very way. Letting the team use them for their abilities.

Spy was shoved out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps. There they were. As a result, he forced himself to silence any noise he might have been making, a small, rather cocky smile slithering slowly across his face like a snake. Now he waited

And he almost melted at the way Engineer lit up.

"What in tarnation...?" Engineer mumbled to themself, picking up one of the roses left for them and holding it delicately between their fingers as though they were considering something important. Ignoring the blush that slunk across their face, staining their cheeks pink, they looked through the rest, and then carefully moved it to access their blueprints. Spy grew a little disheartened. Ah. So easily set aside.

But the Engineer stopped to look around. They put their hands on their hips, wearing a smile that could match the Frenchman's own. One so smug he had no idea that they had the capability to manifest such a thing.

"Why, I think there's a Spy 'round here" they commented out into the open, prompting Spy to decloak himself. Close enough to lean forward and rest his arms against Engineer's shoulder. So he did, growing dangerously close to their face. 

"You would be right then, wouldn't you?" The Frenchman cooed, voice smooth as cyanide-laced silk. 

Engineer knew exactly what they were getting into with him, finding just as much interest in the dime-a-dozen backstabbing scum as he did in them. Maybe they just didn't care. Because boy, did they know how to get them flustered. A sort of suave capability to womanize any breathing woman _or_ man.

"Didn't I tell ya to leave me alone while 'm workin'?"

"I did not see you in the workshop, laborer. Désolé"

With a roll of their eyes, the conversation continued on like that between a married couple. Soft and kind, with a sort of playfulness only found between the two. Shame Engineer had left the door open, though, as Scout found that to be a perfect time to be looking for his father in order to try and get him to play ball. And instead, he was greeted with an open workshop door and Spy being yanked down by the tie for what he assumed would ultimately be a little more than just a kiss from his 'teddy bear;. He audibly gagged.

"UGH! Get a ROOM, you two!" he shouted, to which he was answered with rushed screams to shut the door, which he did so gladly.

That was an image he would need bleach for. But at least those two were happy


	3. Slow Dance With You (Science Party)

Quiet.

The infirmary was always quiet, because people had stopped being idiots and no longer got hurt as much as they used to.

The unfortunate thing about that was the fact that it put Medic out of a job until he was desperately needed. And then he would get dragged out onto the battlefield, heal the imbeciles he called teammates without so much of a thank you for the work he _did_ do, and then go back to what could be considered just a very pitiful personal life. But, quite frankly, he wouldn't have it any other way. Even if they didn't give him half the credit he deserved, his team was alright to be around. A lot better should they actually have the need to come flocking to him for help, but alright nonetheless. They gave him an opportunity to put a spotted history behind him, at least.

The only noise, aside from the quiet scribble of a pen or turning of a page, was the static record that the doctor always kept playing. Even if he wasn't in, his records kept playing. It did create a better atmosphere, at least, considering most people detested medical rooms. But it was also for his own benefit. Quite frankly, it was the only thing keeping him from being driven to the madness he had grown famed for. He couldn't stand silence. Maybe it was because he had grown so used to, and honestly, rather fond of the sound of screaming. Or maybe he just recognized the dangers of allowing himself to be alone with his own thoughts.

But, as always, 'concentrate', the doctor would remind himself, and return to his work, no matter how trivial it may be for the time. Because there was always something to do. Always someone to bother him, always some paperwork to file. And, if nothing else, always a liquor bottle or two to empty to forget how much he strained himself for this team, hardly ever for his own amusement anymore.

A knock came on the door. He sighed and pushed up his glasses, turning his gaze upward. "The door is open, you know" he commented. 

A wave of relief washed over him when he realized that the man standing in the doorway was just Engineer. One of the more tolerable in their ragtag gang of hired madmen and mercenaries.

"It's always better t' knock, doc" Engineer responded, before snickering a little bit when they realized they accidentally rhymed. Small things like that seemed to amuse them, Medic had noted. Perhaps it was similar to the doctor's own weakness for terrible dad jokes. "'sides, never know what yer gonna end up seeing if ya just waltz on in," the Texan continued. Medic just rolled his eyes, motioning a gloved hand to invite the Engineer inside.

"You think so lowly of me, do you, Engineer?" he asked, an eyebrow peaking in curiosity, though he tried to make it obvious that his question had no ill connotation or will behind it. His attempts seemingly went through, as Engineer's playful, yet gentle tone didn't falter.

"Just can never be sure if 'll walk in at a bad time's all" they assured him gently. They stepped the rest of the way inside the office space Medic had made for himself inside his infirmary, closing the door behind them. Their attention shifted to the static record scratching out a song. "Watcha listenin' to today, Doc?" they questioned.

Medic took this as time to pick up his space, tucking aside stray papers and stacking them. Paying no attention to what Engineer did, answering quickly. "I believe it's Teresa Brewer, 1962. What exactly brings you by, anyways?" he shoved aside the answer in order to move promptly to business. As he did, he picked up a teacup from the desk.

"Eh, dunno. Just had a lil question for ya," Engineer stated. They rubbed the back of their neck as Medic lifted his teacup to his lips, taking a sip in the silence. "Ya wouldn't happen t' know how t' dance, would ya, doc?"

Medic nearly spat out his tea. He choked and sputtered to collect himself while Engineer looked on in confusion, and eventually just set the cup down, pretending as if it hadn't happened at all. "Yes, Engineer, I do. What exactly brought this upon you? I mean..." the doctor had prepared to begin rambling, but he had nothing. 

It was a little bit of relief, at least. Usually, a 'little question' was begging for his help on something he properly had no expertise in just because of his wits. Besides... it wasn't professional by any means. So maybe, for once, he'd take this job.

"I was thinkin' bout it, n' I realized I didn't ever learn. Wondered if ya knew," The Engineer explained themself, leaning against the doctor's desk. After a moment of silence, they waved it off. "Eh, but maybe a military base in the middle of the desert ain't the best place, huh?"

"Are you asking me to teach you?" Medic questioned. Another moment of silence, as the Engineer just looked away. They had to stop having these. They were both better than letting their feelings, pathetic things such as awkwardness, get the better of them. No proper man of science would allow that. "... you are, aren't you?"

"Wouldn't be too much trouble if y'ain't got nothin' else to do, would it?"

Medic sighed. Not like he was displeased. He curtly nodded, and set aside the tea he had just picked up. Steered Engineer closer to the door, since they would have more room there. He hadn't done something so proper, or classical, since he was just a boy. Never did you have time for such a thing in a cutthroat, mildly illegal medical mercenary business. Maybe he needed the break. 

The shorter man stood before the doctor, and he took one of their hands in his own. "I will hold your left hand," he started. He then took their other hand, and moved it up to his shoulder, placing his own halfway up their arm. "And we stand like this." Engineer sputtered out a laugh.

"Didn't ever realize how intimate it was before," they commented.

"Well, of course. Didn't you say you've never danced before?"

"Well,,,"

Medic stared for a moment, just as he was about to continue instructing the Engineer. Did the room suddenly grow warmer? He could have sworn he felt his face flush. "Did you go through all this trouble just to have a dance with me?"

"Maybe so, son. Maybe so!" Engineer laughed a little at themself. Admittedly, Medic laughed too. Their laugh was contagious, the doctor swore. "So, can I have this dance, doc?"

Though he hesitated, Medic nodded. "Well, we're already prepared to do so. We might as well."

To the left, counting one, two, three, the two began.

What an unexpected turn of events. But Medic wouldn't complain. He had no right to. He would enjoy himself. He already enjoyed Engineer's company. And it was the first break to do something he truly enjoyed that he had gotten in a long while. So complaining was futile. He just allowed himself to continue. After all, lord only knew the next time he would get such a moment of intimacy like this again. 

... What would normally be seen as malicious was something genuine, as the doctor grinned while the music took over the pair's movements.


	4. Smoking for the Aesthetic (Scout and Spy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NONE OF YOU MAKE THIS WEIRD IT'S JUST A MAN AND HIS SON THIS ISN'T A SHIP

The desert sun was always relentless with its heat.

Scout, on the offhand, had learned how to deal with that heat. He spent hours with Sniper on the roof, listening to the radio and chewing each others' ears off about their teammates and other mild annoyances that came with their work. Dressed light to learn to withstand it. To run through it and pick off suckers that got in his way with the speed and agility of a shark. Or he would stay inside with his fan and read comic books. Not everything with Scout was fast paced and adrenaline-pumping, as most people on his team would be quick to believe.

And sitting on a roof trying to smoke certainly wasn't as fast paced as most of his other activities.

His legs dangled off the sides, and he kicked the air with his cleats as he stared in the direction of the setting sun. Watching it like an ever moving painting, layering on purple and red with the orange and yellow as it sank into the horizon. Beautiful, he supposed, but he had never been much of an artist, though he had heard Sniper mumble about it to himself numerous times.

A shaking hand held a cigarette between two fingers. The tip had been lit, but he just... held it. Maybe he was still anxious about it. He was determined though. Not a little kid, like the rest of the team saw him. Little kids don't smoke. He could do this.

He placed the end to his lips, and-

"What are you doing?" A voice from behind him demanded. Scout nearly fell off the roof, his cigarette tumbling from his hand and falling into the sand below. He groaned, and turned around. Finally putting voice to face. He should have known with that European accent that it was--

"Spy," he answered. A small wisp of red smoke still surrounded the older man. Maybe he had just recently uncloaked. Sneaky bastard. Always creeping around. Spy sat beside Scout on the roof's edge, picking up the pack of cigarettes Scout had gotten his hands on. He plucked one out for himself. The younger man tried to reach to get them back, but Spy snatched them away and held them above his head to keep them away.

"However did you find these, anyways?" Spy ask his son, raising an eyebrow. He slipped a lighter out of the pocket of his suit's jacket, and lit the cigarette he had picked for himself. He lit the tip and placed it between his teeth, awaiting his answer.

"It ain't hard to find them round here, père," Scout claimed, resting his cheek in his palm while his elbow dug into his thigh. He averted his gaze, opting to stare ahead into the sunset instead of facing Spy while he spoke to him. Talking with his father was still awkward for him. Especially considering he was absent for the majority of his life, and discovering the truth was a recent thing. "Just gotta go through one of them fancy suits of yours and you can find them" he claimed. He continued with kicking the air. Spy's head tilted curiously.

"So you went through my things, which you're not allowed to do, just to get a cigarette?" he asked.

Scout hesitated. "... well, yeah?"

Spy shook his head in disappointment. "Mon fils, smoking is a terrible habit," he chided him, knowing he was being nothing but a hypocrite. He continued. He realized maybe having this conversation while smoking himself wouldn't work. He dropped his off the roof as well, right beside where Scout's lay. "Especially considering you are still young."

"That's the thing," Scout responded almost in a snap, looking up. "You all treat me like a kid just cuz I'm the youngest on the team. I wanna be seen like an adult, père. I'm an adult, damnit!" 

Spy's expression dropped a bit. His hand rested on Scout's arm, concern starting to surface. The boy was swift to draw away, which came as no surprise to the Spy. "That is what this about?" he asked. He wasn't shocked in the slightest when Scout nodded a yes in response. It all made sense. They did have a habit of patronizing boy, treating him as though he were a child. "You see those you see as 'adults' smoking, so you think it will make you seem more mature?" Another nod. Spy sighed, and shook his head in disappointment. Both in the boy and in himself.

"Well, yeah. You smoke all time anyways, père. You're the least qualified to criticize me for this".

"I know," Spy retorted, crossing one leg over the other. "But unlike you, my job does not require stealth"

Scout seemed curious. "Ain't that the whole point of,,, uh,,,, espeeneeshe?" Spy cringed at the mispronunciation of the word.

"Espionage," the Frenchman swiftly corrected, being responded to with an eye roll. His son's disdain was nothing he was a stranger to. He didn't mind. "And not in the manner you need it. You need good lungs for as much as you run about, Scout."

Scout sat up, and crossed his arms. "It's just one. One won't hurt me" he claimed, attempting again to get the cigarettes back. Spy held them back up above his head again, foiling Scout's attempt.

"'Just one' turns into only just 10, and soon you have a problem as bad as mine," 

Scout pouted a little bit. Winning against a master of sweet talk seemed to be impossible. "I don't get it, dad," he started. "Why am I still here if I'm just the laughing stock of this damn team?"

"Laughing stock? Maybe so. But laughing gives people joy," Spy suggested in response. Who was he to know of joy. He hadn't experienced true emotion in years. "Does it not give but just a little reward knowing you make others happy?"

"It ain't worth it if it's at my expense!" Scout snapped back. He sighed, sinking down afterwards in a shame apology. "Maybe my lungs should just give out. Then I wouldn't have to do this damn job anymore."

Spy hadn't a clue how to get through to his son anymore. He had never seen this in him before, either. Was this what he got for being so distant? Scout didn't deserve to go through this. 

" _Jeremy._ "

That _demanded_ the Scout's attention. Nobody referred to him by his first name. He snapped his attention up curiously, almost a little afraid. Spy sighed softly. "We all are disrespected for different reasons. You are the joke of the team? You try having your reputation be whittled down to being nothing but a backstabbing snake," He was surprisingly calm about bringing this up. Scout just listened, curious. Maybe just a touch doubtful that his father understood. "I understand where you are coming from, but developing an addiction habit is not the way to get respect. I do not want you repeating my mistakes."

This surprised Scout. He sat, dumbfounded, as the Spy just looked off to the sunset. Just a sliver of light remained now, highlighting purple skies. Maybe it was a shadow, but Scout could have sworn his father was smiling. Figures. 

.... of all the people to understand, he never expected it to be him. 

He sat silently for a minute, in awe, letting what he was told sink in. Tears formed in his eyes as it did, and he leaned against Spy's shoulder as they rolled down his cheeks. Staring out onto the horizon. 

"The sunset is beautiful, non?" Spy questioned. Scout just nodded.

Quiet, for a minute.

"I am sorry for being so harsh. But if I wasn't a good father then, I should at least try now so you do not turn into a miniature me," he continued. Scout sniffled and nodded again. 

"Yeah, you really sucked when I was younger. Specially cuz I didn't know ya," he was suddenly like a little boy from Boston again. But he reached up and gently tapped a fist against Spy's chest like a punch, muttering a quiet 'bonk' under his breath. "Man, you still suck."

"Merci, I try. It is in the job description to be a terrible person."

Scout chuckled, before looking up suddenly. "Wait, really?"

"What do you think, Scout?"

......

"Actually, père..." Scout started. Spy shifted his gaze to Scout, raising an eyebrow, now curious. "Ya wouldn't,,, y'know, mind calling me Jeremy, right?"

Spy chuckled weakly. "You would actually like your deadbeat father to refer to you by your birth given name," he repeated. Scout nodded.

"Well, yeah. You are my dad, aint ya?"

Spy sat in silence. He wasn't thinking about it. He knew his answer. Maybe he was just building the suspense. But eventually, he did nod an affirmation, leaning back as Scout's head found its way into his lap. He just placed a hand atop it.

It still felt weird, attempting to now act as a father to a boy who had waited 27 years to finally have one.

"I suppose, as your father, I can't say no, can I Jeremy?"

Scout gave a small bucktoothed grin. Cherished that moment. And the silence that came after, broken only by another statement from Spy.

"I am proud of you, you know."

".... thanks, dad."


	5. One Good Movie Kiss (Speeding Bullets)

How Scout could read this comic book shit, Sniper had no idea. The stealth runner had a tendency to leave them lying around, so Sniper would scoop them up and read them if he had nothing else to do. He could flip through one on a particularly slow day, and slip it right back into his room as if he had never taken it. He had noted a particular fondness in Spiderman. Sniper himself had always preferred Batman, but maybe it was because he saw portions of himself in the masked crusader.

At the moment, he wandered outside the base, nose deep buried in a stolen comic book. It was a good way of keeping the sun out of his eyes, even though he had been cautioned against putting a comic book in direct sunlight. It made Sniper question whether or not said comic books were akin to a gremlin, with all the rules he had to follow to keep them in 'mint condition'. Maybe he would try feeding the book after midnight. Snickering at the thought, he continued on, tugging further down on the brim of his hat.

Only downfall of hiding behind said hat was it was hard to see what you were doing, which led to him running straight into a wall.

"Shit-" the Australian cursed upon falling directly onto his ass. He looked up only when he heard snickering from above. Immediately, his expression dropped into that of a scowl. He tried to hide behind his hat, but alas, to no avail.

"Aye Snipes! Never took you for a bookworm! Only ever seen Engie do that!" Scout taunted from above. He sat on his window sill, looking down and kicking at the air with his cleats with a shit eating grin that never seemed to leave his face. "But I guess you learn something every day!"

"Bugger..." Sniper mumbled, forcing himself up onto his feet. Scout put a hand to his ear, leaning over a little. Sniper half wished he'd fall.

"What was that? Can't hear you when you mumble!" Scout called. Sniper just glared. Scout sat back upright, afraid that the Aussie might try to grab him by the collar and yank him down onto the sand. "Whatcha reading?"

"A comic."

Scout's interest seemed to pique. He leaned back over, trying to get a look at what comic Sniper was reading. He had been trying to hide it, but Scout knew these comics and their covers inside and out. He grinned. "I was wondering where that went! If you want to borrow my Spiderman comics, you can just ask, y'know!"

Well, now wasn't this embarrassing? He'd been going through the effort to smuggle the comics into his grubby little hands, and never once did Sniper bother to _ask_ Scout. He shifted his gaze to the side, and held up the book, which Scout swiped back in an instant. He opened it, flipped through it, and shook it out.

"C'mon man! You got sand in it, _and_ you put it in direct sunlight? You could've wrecked it, man!"

"Well, 'least I didn't feed it after midnight," Sniper retorted. And then he looked back up. "Or, y'know, got it wet."

Scout snorted. "Yeah, guess so!"

They stood in silence. Two friends with too much opportunity for small talk, just remaining quiet, likely via consequence of Sniper's awkwardness and Scout's upward douchey nature. And then Scout seemed to get an idea, while thinking about the comics.

"Heeeeey, have you ever seen the Spiderman movies?"

"They make movies?" Sniper raised an eyebrow.

"Dude, a superhero BREATHES and they film it!" Scout claimed. He swung his legs back over the second floor window sill, turning his back to Sniper, before leaning backwards and hanging over the edge, so he was practically face to face with the Aussie. A shit eating grin spread over Scout's face like butter. Sniper tilted his head in confusion.

"Aye, what's that look for, mate?" He asked, crossing his arms.

"Think it's gay to kiss the homies?" Scout asked. Sniper blinked a few times, unsure of how to answer. He opted just to shrug. Scout snorted. "Well there's this scene after Spiderman saves the day that he's hanging upside down in front of Mary Jane, who's this _uber_ mega foxy hot girl. And they kiss, and it's super cool because Spidey is upside down but MJ is standing like a normal person!"

Sniper blinked a few times again. Following Scout's rambles was nearly just as hard as keeping up with the Boston native himself. But he thought he understood, based on the fact that heat seemed to rise to his cheeks, and he made motion to try and hide behind his hat again. "Are you tryin' to ask for a kiss, mate?" he asked.

"Am I?" Scout hummed, seeming unsure himself, before he nodded an affirmative. "Yeah, sure! Just like in the movies!"

Sniper tensed up a bit. God, okay. Then again, Scout _was_ right there. It wouldn't be difficult to lean down just a little while the idiot hung from his window sill and just--

Scout grabbed him, noting his hesitance, and yanked him forward, forcing their lips together. For a moment, Sniper thought his head had rolled straight off. It felt unreal, but he tried desperately to keep his wits about him. Just one movie kiss, for his best friend.

Yeah. Best friends.

Once he finally found the strength to break away, Sniper stood dumbfounded. Scout seemed just as dazed, though he hung with the same shit eating smile and childish glee.

"Anyone ever tell you you're a good kisser, Snipes?" Scout asked with a tilt of his head. Seeming genuine.

"Would it shock ya if I said I ain't ever kissed someone before?" Sniper responded. Scout laughed a little in disbelief.

"Yeah, it would! I guess that's just the effect of the sex makER- WOAH!" And without another word, Scout swung himself from the window and hit the ground, stirring up dust as he did. Sniper had to stop himself fro laughing. That was Scout for you. A complete and utter dumbass. And somehow, the stealth runner was still able to laugh at himself, despite the fact that the sharpshooter had been a first hand witness to his stupidity. He offered a hand, which Scout took and used to pull himself up. And they both continued on their way, side by side, but quiet spare for quiet snickering from the Scout. As if nothing had happened at all.

... he would never admit it, but sitting and thinking about it, now that he had his wits about him, maybe one good movie kiss wasn't good enough for Sniper. 


End file.
